He was pinned down and he knew it, but surrender just wasn’t on the cards. He wasn’t hardwired that way.
Grunting with the effort, he brought his feet under himself and shoved himself up, kicking a leg out and planting a foot into the sidewall, using that to propel himself up further,
launching over and rolling as he landed to save his already cramping legs.
He cursed himself for pushing it on his run yesterday, and prodded his fingers into his aching thigh with an unhappy little chuff.
, he chanted in his mind, dropping down into a modified crouch and slithering slowly in to the foliage without disturbing it too much.
Last thing he wanted to do was crash through the dense greenery like a bull in a china shop - he may as well paint a fucking target on his damn back.
Owen and another guy were both hit and lying across the border, bodies sprawled and splattered with filth. Ty was sure that he was next, because the odds sure as hell weren’t in his favour.
One man against three. Perhaps not insurmountable odds under normal circumstances, but Ty wasn’t fighting 100% fit right now and probably shouldn’t be out at all.
The hell was he missing this though.
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